If things are moving in God’s direction in a church there will be some hard times. Satan will do whatever he can do to derail the train. But the Lord is also present at such times and will make His presence known to us if we will just listen. The church I pastored for 11 years in Ohio was a church in flux; leaving its denomination, breaking decades of tradition and dealing with all the myriad of things that can plague a church. A pastor is often a lightening rod for those who are angry at change and the pastor can feel the brunt of attacks even if he has not instigated the changes. In the case of Ohio, the denomination labeled me a cult leader and that got to the people in the church and community who were disaffected and there was a lot of nasty things said. The active members knew what the real story was and they just laughed it off and went on their ways, but it put pressure on me. Meeting with the Lord every morning was the only way to weather the storm.

         For me, that meant getting up every morning at 4 AM, getting dressed and usually driving to Lake Erie to a spot on top of a bluff over looking the Lake. There I would lay my head back against the seat and pray. Not with my eyes closed, but more in the way of chatting with a friend. Any time of the year; freezing, raining, hot and muggy. It didn’t matter. Window down and talking. We would visit for two or three hours with the background noise of surf or storm or high winds or, if the Lake was completely frozen, silence. We had some interesting conversations. When I went to work at the funeral home, I would often do the same thing. And, really, there didn’t need to be a conflict or problem rearing its ugly head. There were many times that it was a time of laughing and having fun.

         Once we came to Indiana, that ended. It is way to far to drive to Lake Michigan in the morning and normally the rivers here don’t make much noise as they slowly meander on their way. I miss it a great deal, but God is anywhere you want to meet up. Still, I have always lived near big water, either Lake Erie or the Atlantic Ocean or the Gulf of Mexico. There is just something about the unwavering strength of big water.

         Last week I was on vacation in Ohio. I wanted to see my son and his wife, connect with a dear friend and see the changing leaves. I knew Marsha was getting married, but I thought it was to be on Saturday and I figured to be headed out of the state by then and leaving that behind. But then my son told me that the reception was on Saturday. She was getting married at the Cuyahoga County courthouse on Wednesday. It didn’t really bother me. I knew it was going to happen. This last year has been the hardest of my life and I am mostly out of the darkness. I am OK with it, I suppose, but as Wednesday dawned, I was out of sorts. That and a few other things on my mind were pulling me down. I had the day free and I wanted to go sightseeing. My son and his wife live in the same town they grew up in, which is also the town I pastored in for so long. I love the area and I set out in the morning to see what I could see.

         There are hills and valleys and fast moving rivers and parks everywhere. It was almost like every creek I drove over and every rock and every tree along the way held a memory. But I was troubled still. Without thinking about it, I was gradually heading north. Almost without realizing it, I was soon going down the road that led to my special spot. When I realized it, I thought to myself, I wonder if it has changed. It wasn’t really a parking place. Just a little pull off next to the guard rail. Maybe it wasn’t even there anymore or, because of its place many feet above the Lake, maybe they had a no parking sign up now. Things change.

         At one time I had an ugly yellow car. One winter morning I started sliding on the ice and bumped the guard rail, leaving a little of the paint on the rail. As I pulled up, I saw that little spot of yellow paint. It made me smile. I snugged in next to the rail, slid my window down and turned off the car. A storm was brewing out on the Lake. You could see the clouds forming. As the storm formed it pushed the water ahead of it and the waves slammed against the rocks below. The wind was building. Rain was starting and there was no one around, not even cars. Here it was complete daylight, unlike my other trips in the dark, but it seemed like those other times.

         As I sat there listening, it almost seemed like I heard a voice. “Finally. I wondered when you would get here! Welcome home, my son. You are troubled, aren’t you? I’ve always been able to tell, you know. I can read you like a book. So, what do you want to talk about today?”

         And we sat there for a while, in our regular place. That voice I seemed to be hearing seemed to be reminding me of other times when we worked through problems together. All the struggles. And the voice I seemed to be hearing reminded me of funny things, too. Successes, joys, victories over the evil one. The voice I seemed to be hearing had always been with me here in Indiana, too, but that day I needed to be at home again in the spot by the Lake, feeling the Comforter and being comforted.

            After awhile I started the car up and backed away, being careful not to leave any gray paint this time. I got on the road and saw a couple walking toward my spot to look over at the Lake. I met a couple of cars and the road became busy again. Did we really sit there all that time uninterrupted? How did that happen? I shook my head and smiled. I bet He arranged that one for sure! As I pulled away, the things that had been troubling me were gone. Oh, they were still in existence. They just were not pulling at me.

         I had been home, you see, and my Friend and I had a talk. He knows me so well he can read me like a book. But I know Him, as well, because I read His Book. It was really good to sit in that one tiny place which is, more than any place on this earth, home to me. Just me and my Friend.

         Blessings.